I learned the impact of my own gaze over a decade ago.
I’ve been measured with its usage, ever since.
Between that and my previously stronger (but still present) light sensitivity, I’d come to obscure the matter via sunglasses. In more recent years, I’d come to prefer transition lenses, for the quick switch when stepping out to greet my archnemesis, El Sol.
Ultimately, none of the pairs were that important, and I even completely lost a good pair, along with a different pair of prescription sunglasses, between my years in Springfield and the first two years of college.
As it pertains to the cheap ones, the circumstances around them are so much more significant than the specific purchase itself. All of them keep pointing back to the basic elements above, as well. As a result, the inevitably quick scratching of their cheaply-coated exterior (whether before or during said ownership) becomes this letdown that is simultaneously minor and major, between the actual item and the psychology swirling around the object.
But I veered away from any true validity of being diagnosed as a “hoarder” ages ago, despite retaining a fair amount of stuff in repeated and increasingly personally motivated purges.
That’s where the camera comes very much in-handy, as a compromise.
I’d wear a pair for a half hour at a time, tonight, while moving around items. Chances are, I’d be wearing a different pair, when I reentered a room.
